


Idiocy and Epiphanies

by thecouchwitch



Category: Sweet (2000)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecouchwitch/pseuds/thecouchwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete has never been good at love, it was hard to be when you grew up with no other role models besides celebrities and a pair of parents in a loveless marriage, so when his best friend confesses his feelings, to say he handles the situation badly is an understatement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idiocy and Epiphanies

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this turned out way angstier and longer than I anticipated, but overall I'm pretty happy with it, so I hope you readers enjoy it! Please review if you like it or would like to leave constructive criricism.

When Pete was fifteen, he finally grew into his looks and got his first real girlfriend. Her name was Rosie. She was a tall, stunning brunette with very developed breasts for her age, skill with a make-up brush, and a skirt that was always short enough to threaten the dress code. She was a year above him; cool and mature, and all his mates high fived him and begged him for details on their sex life. Did she do blowjobs? Was she easy? Was it true she wore a g-string?  
His mates were all jealous, of course. She was the hottest girl in school, after all, but his closest friend, Stitch, hated her. He treated her coldly whenever she tagged along with them and he scoffed and rolled his eyes whenever Pete bragged about the things she was willing to do. Stitch wasn't cool and mature like the others. He was still in his I-Hate-Girls phase, probably because he was the school nerd and nobody wanted to date the kid who willingly spent his lunches in the library. He was jealous, too, but this jealousy was deep enough to be antagonistic.  
One day, Stitch told Rosie that Pete hated her and wanted to break up. That was when he realised that Stitch wasn't just jealous because he didn't have his own girl; he actually wanted Rosie for himself. There was a school yard fight and punches were thrown, resulting in a month detention for both parties. Pete tried to make up with Rosie, only for her to reveal that she'd been meaning to break up with him anyway. Apparently she'd found a new boyfriend who owned a car.  
Pete's perfect image of Rosie was shattered, and he made up with Stitch during their following detention session. They vowed to never let a woman get between them again.  
So much for that.

***

It was supposed to make him feel better, punching the man who betrayed him and ruined his life, but the regret set in almost instantly. Pete had smashed Stitch right off the bar stool, kicked him on the floor then punched him again for good measure. It had been great, it had been triumphant, he'd gotten revenge for the relationships that had fallen apart because of him. When he'd gotten back to his flat, though, the anger had ebbed away enough to realise that not only had his girlfriends left him, but he'd just driven off his best friend as well.  
Pete tried to ignore the ache of guilt in his chest and hold on to the fury. He watched some telly, fed his puppies and did the laundry, all the while focusing on the lonely emptiness of his apartment, the fact he wasn't going to get sex that night, and on the flippant and casual tone of the breakup note from the girls. When he changed into his pyjamas and got into bed that night, though, his frustration had burnt out almost completely and his ability to think clearly had returned.

 _You kind of deserved this._ A voice in his head told him, sounding suspiciously like his mother or one of his least favourite aunts. _You did cheat on those girls. All Stitch did was call you out on your bullshit._

“But he went behind my back.” He replied angrily to the voice. “He had no right! He betrayed me, he was my friend.”

_You betrayed those girls first. He clearly loved Poppy more than you did if he did this to stop you from hurting her, and if Daisy and Poppy left you, then obviously it's because they were sick of your shit as well._

After arguing with his conscience for the better part of the night, Pete got about four hours sleep before the radio alarm roused him. As a practised party boy, he was no stranger to running on fumes and coffee after a late night, but that morning he had never felt so tired and reluctant to go to work. He got up and showered and only put in a token effort to tidy his hair, all the while thinking about Stitch, lying on the floor of the pub, covering his face with his arms and cowering from Pete's blows. He considered calling him, but he didn't know what to say; he wanted to yell and scream at him and check to see he was ok all at once. He couldn't believe Stitch had done this, weren't they friends? Weren't they behind such juvenile jealousies? Stitch hadn't even known Poppy, he barely spoke to her, and there were plenty of hot girls in the club the night they met her. Why did he have to zero in on his woman?  
Pete wasn't sure what he'd do when he arrived at the record shop for his next shift. He doubted the boss would approve of a brawl next to the antique trumpets. Fortunately for him, though, Stitch was nowhere to be found when the time came. Only his boss was there, an ex-roadie named Rob, looking extremely displeased.

“Whatever you two did to each other, you better fix it.”

“What?” Annoyance shot through Pete as he placed his bag in his cubby hole behind the counter.

Rob continued filling out the paper he had in front of him, a requisition form for the latest Beatles compilation. “Stitch came in looking like he'd been in a bloody bar fight and said he wanted to quit.”

Pete's eyes widened in surprise and panic. “What?! But he loves it here!”

“Aye, and he's the only man I know who knows how to run the computer proper, and he fixes it for free to boot. I gave him a few days off to think it over, so you better fix the mess you made or the repair costs are coming outta your paycheck.”

Stitch was a genius; when he wasn't working at the shop, he was at uni studying all kinds of tech and science that Pete didn't understand. Rob had an ancient computer in the shop, all dusty and huge with the deepest back you've ever seen. Stitch constantly complained of it's slow response time and the way it constantly froze and broke down, but Rob was a cheap bastard; so long as Stitch kept fixing it for free he wasn't spending a single pound on an upgrade.

“It's not my fault!” Pete snapped angrily to hide the fact that it totally was. “I slugged him, yeah, but only 'cause he tried to take my girl from me.”  
Rob stared at him for a second, and then to Pete's utter and furious bewilderment, he burst into laughter.

“Oi, this ain't funny!”

“Christ almighty, you're thick.” A few more chuckles escaped the roadie as he shook his head. “Whatever happened, he ain't trying to steal your girl, you can count on that. Go talk to him after you knock off work, and this time actually listen to him before tryin' to bash 'im.”

Rob obviously knew something that Pete didn't, but before he could grill the old loon about it, a couple of customers walked in to take advantage of the Thursday sale on Rolling Stones CDs. Pete turned what Rob said over in his head a dozen times, but it seemed obvious that Stitch wanted Poppy for himself. This was repeat behaviour for him. Pete could recall clearly all the times he'd kissed and hugged Poppy and danced with her in pubs, only to look up and catch his friend glaring enviously at the two of them, not to mention how he'd been positively gleeful when he and Poppy had been going through a bumpy patch.  
Once the shop closed, Pete took the boss's advice and headed straight for Stitch's neighbourhood, though he wasn't sure if making up was even on the table. He was all set to yell at his ex friend when he banged on the door, but he was struck speechless when the door swung open. Stitch's hair was a mess, and the side of his face was covered in a dark purple bruise. He looked tired and miserable like he hadn't slept in days, with dark circles under his eyes and an expression of utter defeat.

“Oh god.” Was all Pete could manage, his pent up frustration replaced by guilt.

“Thanks.” Was Stitch's reply. “Is there a reason you're here? I would've thought you'd be happy I was getting out of your life. Or are you not done beating me up yet?”

“Wha-? Stitch, you dumb berk, I never said I wanted you gone!” He ran a hand through his mousey hair. “Look, I'm sorry, but you had it coming, alright? Where do come off, destroying my life like that?!”

“Destroying your life? I was trying to help you, you thick bastard!” Stitch turned and marched into his flat. Pete caught the door before it shut and followed closely behind, high heeled boots clacking on the wooden floor. “How in fuck does that help me?!”

“Because you're too stupid to see the truth in front of your face.” The taller man was angry, angrier than Pete had ever seen. “You always pick the worst girls possible, and I always sat by and let you make your mistakes because I knew you'd want me to, alright? But this time I couldn't just sit by and let that bitch fuck you over.”

“Don't you talk about Poppy that way, she was beautiful!”

“Beautiful, yeah, but didn't you even notice what was inside her?” He held out his hands as though begging, wanting Pete to wake up. “She yelled at you, she nagged you, she manipulated you with sex like you were some toy, and then she faked a pregnancy, Pete! She said she was pregnant with your child just to play with your head, don't you see how sadistic that is?! How could you stay with her after that?!”

“I-I, well I--” Ok, putting it that way, Stitch certainly had a point. Those weeks where he'd thought Poppy was pregnant were some of the most anxiety inducing weeks of Pete's life. Truthfully he'd been miserable even before then, which was why he'd been driven to cheat for the first time ever. When she'd revealed to him that she wasn't pregnant, he'd been shocked, but seconds later she'd been on top of him. The amazing sex was back, and he hadn't really bothered thinking about it since the worst was over. “Well if she was so bad, then why did you want her for yourself!?”

“You thought I loved Poppy? Are you mental?” They were both yelling now. The neighbours could probably hear them but they were too wrapped up in the argument to care.

“I saw you!” This was Stitch's fault, and regardless of his intentions, he needed to stay angry. Even if Poppy had been bad for him, he'd also lost Daisy in the process. He advanced on Stitch, unconsciously balling his fists as though ready for a fight. “Just like back when you fancied Rosie. Always giving us jealous looks, sabotaging us. You can never just be a good mate and accept my relationships, you always try to take what I have! You've been this way with all of my girlfriends!”

“You're wrong!”

“Then why--?!”

“Because you're the one I'm in love with!”

He said those words at no higher volume than the words before them, but they seemed far louder, almost as loud as the stunned silence that followed. Pete gaped in shock, wondering if he'd heard correctly, searching Stitch's face for some trace of sarcasm or humour. There was none, though. Only humiliation and shame. “You … what?”

Stitch pointedly avoided meeting his eyes. “You better leave.”

“What?! Stitch--”

“Out!” He grabbed Pete by the arm and yanked him to the door, pulling it open and pushing Pete's lithe body out hard enough that he stumbled over his boots. By the time he managed to right himself and turn around, the door had been locked again, and no matter how much Pete banged on the knocker and called his name, Stitch refused to answer.

***

Stitch had a small apartment. It had one bedroom, a bathroom with just enough square feet to fit the essential fixtures, and no separation between the kitchen and lounge room unless you counted a short wooden bench. Still, it was more than enough room for Stitch, and he could easily afford it until all that studying paid off and he got swamped with high paying job offers from Microsoft and what have you. He and Pete had fantasised about it in their teen years as they lay on a picnic table in the park at night, looking up at the stars and avoiding going home to their families for as long as possible.  
It was a god send when they both landed the job at the music shop and moved into their own places, Pete away from his mum and dad as they argued at all hours of the day and teetered right on the edge of divorce, and Stitch from ridiculously strict parents. They were the type of parents that enforced study plans and eight o'clock curfews, internet monitoring, and punished for any grade lower than perfect. Worse, they forbade him from seeing any friends who they deemed a bad influence, not that Pete would ever pay any attention to their strict anti-Sweet-family policy.  
They originally planned to move in together, but at the time had been unable to find any two bedroom flats in their price range that were both close to the record shop and close to the university. It had been a disappointment, but they both eventually found places that suited their needs, and they saw each other every day anyway so it hadn't been a huge loss.  
Pete had let himself in to Stitch's place uninvited one day and found some guy he'd never met in his underwear making eggs at the stove. Stitch nervously introduced him as Sam, the new roommate that he was taking on to help pay the rent. Weird, since Stitch had never indicated any kind of monetary struggle before then, and even weirder since there was no extra room for him to sleep in. At the time, Pete had rationalized that he must just sleep on the couch and put it out of his mind. He had a few more encounters with Sam, but after a few weeks he vanished. When questioned, Stitch just shrugged stiffly and replied that he'd moved out, and there was no further mention of Sam or the rent troubles again.

Now it all made sense; a god damned fucking epiphany. The mysterious “roommate”, the jealousy, the total lack of interest in any girl Pete had tried to introduce him to, Rob's hinting; Stitch was gay. It had never occurred to Pete before, the guy was about as un-flamboyant as they came; awkward, quiet, an avid beer drinker, and all the fashion sense of a Welsh geometry teacher. Now that he really thought about it though, now that he knew, he was slapping himself for never having realised it in the first place.  
And good god, Stitch was in love with him. How long had that been going on? They'd met at thirteen, could he have loved him since even before Rosie? Pete supposed it didn't matter much. He needed to fix the situation before trying to figure out details like that. How, though? What was the protocol when your best friend since school confessed his undying love to you?

Stitch didn't come into work the next day, or the day after that. Pete tried calling him and texting him dozens of times, but only ever got his answering service. Over and over, “Stitch, it's Pete, I'm sorry, please call me back, we need to talk”.  
About what, he didn't know. He had no idea what to say. The logical part of his mind said he should just leave it, that their friendship couldn't bounce back from this. He couldn't just leave it, though. Losing Stitch felt like losing a limb, he just wanted his friend back.  
On the third day, with still no answer from Stitch, Rob came in to work looking morose, and calmly informed Pete that Stitch had quit for real. Suddenly he couldn't breathe, and had to excuse himself to the storage room, where he put his head in his hands and sobbed brokenly. When he finally calmed down enough to come back out, Rob mercifully didn't comment on his crying fit.

***

Pete was seventeen and had just graduated when his mother revealed the affair she'd been having and his parents had finally called it quits. It had been a long time coming, and Pete had expected to feel relief, but it had felt like anything but. First he'd felt anger and had run from the house, but he'd barely reached the road before the rage had turned into tears. With nowhere else to go, he'd went to Stitch's place; his parents hated him, but fortunately they'd both been working late.  
Stitch had put his arm around him and let him vent it all out, no judgement, no laughing at his tears and calling him a girl like many of his other friends would have, and when Pete had calmed down enough to talk and said “I can't go back, not with mum's new boyfriend hanging around”, Stitch had gone quiet for a minute, and then he said without a hint of his usual insecurity or caution “Let's run away.”

Pete hadn't cried since that day. It had been a new exciting life, and crying was for little boys who missed their parents. If he was upset, he did what mature people did, and drank his troubles away. He refused to cry any more, so when he arrived home from work he drank, and when he'd finished the bottles of weak beer in the fridge and found his feelings of heartbreak hadn't numbed in the slightest, he put on his coat and headed for the nearest club. It was Friday, and despite the rain outside the place was packed with young people celebrating the weekend. Pete ran into a couple of his more casual friends and had a few drinks with them, faking smiles and dancing with girls as if everything was ok. At some point he danced with Lily, a girl with bleached white hair and a tattoo of Minnie Mouse on her shoulder blade. When she suggested going somewhere more private, he said yes.  
As they entered Pete's flat, Lily pulled him into a kiss, and he did his best to focus through the depression and inebriation. They stumbled past the sleeping dogs into the bedroom, where she kicked the door shut with a stiletto, and then they tumbled onto the bed in a squirming heap. This is great. Pete thinks to himself as he wrestles with the zip of her dress, Sex with a hot girl, no need to worry so long as I have this.  
Soon their clothes were off, and Lily was kissing her way down his chest towards his cock. He groaned and closed his eyes as he did his best to enjoy it, but all he could do was wonder what Stitch was doing, if he had a new job lined up, if he was moving as well as quitting. He pictured Stitch all dolled up in a suit he could barely breathe in, filling out a job application, accidentally signing his nickname and crossing it out to enter his real one, and he let out a breathy laugh. Lily made an inquisitive noise and puled back. “Hm?”

“Oh, uh, your hair was tickling me.” He lied with a crooked smile. Lily smiled back and crawled up to kiss him, and he wrapped his arms around her to kiss back in response, feigning enthusiasm.  
Pete wondered if Stitch had ever thought about doing this kind of stuff with him; he must've if he was in love with him. What would kissing Stitch be like? Probably a bit scratchy around the face where he always failed to shave close enough. Fairly warm too, he was tall and solid, and in the past when they'd hugged his skin had always felt pleasantly hot. He'd smell amazing too, he always wore a really nice scented aftershave. Whenever they met up first thing in the morning and he got a whiff of it, he always had the weirdest urge to smell his neck...

Pete let out a groan, which Lily took as encouragement. She laid down next to him and tugged at him as they kissed, trying to get him to climb on top of her. Suddenly Pete was very aware of the obnoxiously thick perfume she was wearing, of the way her hair was waist length and just hanging every where, of the annoying pitches her voice reached. Any other day, he would have been dancing in joy to be in a situation with a girl like that, but at that moment all he could think about was Stitch, and she was ruining his fantasies and killing his arousal. He held her shoulders and pulled away. “Um, sorry, I'm a bit too drunk for this...”

“Oh, I thought it was taking a long time to get you going... call me when you're sober and we'll pick up later, yeah?”

He doubted he would, but he nodded and smiled as she gathered her clothes and left. He waited for the front door to click shut, and then he groaned as he took his semi-hard erection in hand. He began stroking it to mental pictures of Stitch kissing him desperately in between erotic gasps for breath, Stitch and he grinding their sweaty bodies together, Stitch wrapping his gangly arms around him and telling him he loved with while gazing at him with those adorable deep brown eyes of his. It only took for a few minutes before Pete arched his back and groaned his best friend's name as he came into his hand. He stared up at the ceiling, panting, and as the afterglow faded away and his brainwaves returned to normal, he was more depressed than ever.

***

Stitch had a really stupid name, in Pete's opinion. It was snobby and pretentious, straight out of a Victorian upper class novel, and Stitch had hated it too. It was just another sign of his family's view of him as a trophy winner more than a son, a fancy name to impress anyone they introduced their child to.  
Their friendship had been an accident. They'd both moved to the area in the space of a couple weeks, Pete from London and Stitch from Yorkshire, so as the new kids they'd simply ended up together during lunch one day. Stitch introduced himself, and once the shorter of the two had finished laughing, he declared he would find him a better name.  
They tried several, but none seemed to stick, until one day in science class. The teacher was introducing them to working with chemicals; specifically mixing them together to create different reactions. Pete declared the reactions the other groups were getting boring and started mixing stuff together at random once the teacher's back was turned, far removed from what the text book approved. Stitch didn't like it, but by that point he knew it was no use to try to stop him, so he simply begged for Pete to please at least wear safety goggles, which he'd taken off because they'd made him look “like a nerd”.

“A stitch in time saves nine,” He said, and when Pete looked confused, he rolled his eyes and explained: “Means if you take precautions you wont die.”

Pete agreed, and seconds later, one of his genius concoctions blew up in his face. There wasn't any lasting damage to his skin, but according to the doctor, if he hadn't been wearing goggles he could have lost his eyesight. “You saved my nine” he'd told his friend later, and since then, he'd always been known as Stitch.

***

“Stitch! Let me in!” Pete banged on the door rapidly, “I just want to talk, please! I promise I won't hit you!”

There was no answer from within the flat, but Pete knew the house was occupied because when he pressed his ear to the door he could noises. Faint breathing, soft footsteps, the rustling of paper; Stitch was in there alright, he was just doing his best to ignore him. Too bad, because Pete wasn't budging until he talked to his friend. He cupped his hands around his mouth and turned towards the street so neighbours and passer-by could hear. “HAWTHORN MITCHELLS, LET ME IN!”

There was the scratching sound of a chair being pushed back along a wooden floor, and a second later the door opened and Pete was dragged inside, Stitch's expression a mix of anger, panic and humiliation. The bruise on his face had faded a fair bit, thank god. “Don't call me that!”

“You gave me no other choice.”

“Arse.”

“Stitch...” Pete reached up to touch his face, only for Stitch to angrily slap his hand away.

“Don't touch me. What do you want?”

“Didn't you hear me out there? Or get any of my messages? We need to talk.”

Stitch folded his arms around himself meekly, shoulders slumped and eyes to the ground. “There's nothing to talk about.”

“You said you loved me.”

“Yeah, and I feel absolutely stupid for it. I'm trying to do the proper thing here, you don't need to come around and make fun of me or yell at me or whatever it is you're here to do.”

Stitch couldn't stand to look at Pete any more, the embarrassment on his face all too evident, so he picked up the empty breakfast plate and coffee mug on the table and took them to the sink to rinse them off. It was only a few feet away, but Pete followed anyway, running his fingers through his hair. It was messy again today; this whole ordeal had thrown his normally meticulous grooming habits right out the window. “I said I was sorry already, Stitch, can you stop acting like I'm here to chop your head off? You're my best mate, I never said I wanted us to split up.”

“Well maybe I don't want us to be mates any more? Maybe it's time I got over the straight kid I've been in love with since I was sixteen because seeing him snog every girl that comes within twenty feet of us is getting too fucking _painful_?”

He punctuated the last word by slamming the rag he'd been drying the mug with on the bench and braced his hands against the peeling wood, head bowed as though it weighed a thousand pounds. Pete took a few moments to think carefully before breaking the tense silence. “Well, I'm not straight, for one thing.”

Stitch looked up in almost comical confusion. “What?”

Pete tried to keep it casual, because if he kept it casual he wouldn't chicken out, he just needed to be brave. He shrugged and smiled, trying his best to come off as if he was talking about the weather. “I said I'm not straight, I like both men and women. I've been in denial about it pretty much since birth, but if you grew up in the neighbourhood I did before we met you would be too.”

To nobody's surprise, Stitch looked hardly convinced. The taller man squinted suspiciously, making Pete fight against the panic; shit, he'd said the wrong thing, Stitch didn't believe him, Stitch hated him, it was too late, he was going to be kicked out-

“You're serious...?”

“You think I'd be lying about something like this?” He clenched his fists to keep from shaking. “I'm about to lose you Stitch, if stopping that means busting out of a closet behind twenty-three years worth of locks, then I'll fuckin' do it, alright? I'll do anything.”

“Christ, Pete, you can't lie about your sexuality just to keep me from--”

“I'm. Not. Lying!” He was desperate now. He crossed the small space towards Stitch and grabbed his hands tightly. He needed to get his point across, even if it killed him. “I love you too, alright? And not just as a mate. I dunno how it happened it or when, but my head is so empty I didn't realize it until I caused all this bullshit, and now I'm here to beg for you to forgive me, because you was right about Poppy and you was right to tell Daisy and you've been the only one who's ever really been there for me and I don't think I can live without you because last night I wanked to the thought of you telling me you loved me and it's humiliating to tell you all this so don't you dare fucking accuse me of lying!”

He said it all in a panicked rush and he's not sure if Stitch could even make out the jumbled love confession, because he just stood there and stared at Pete like he had sprouted a second head. The seconds ticked by and Pete was getting too anxious and felt like he needed to move. Running for the door was tempting but probably inappropriate, so he went for the next best option and yanked Stitch into a kiss.  
It was just what he expected, warm and a bit scratchy topped off with an amazing smelling aftershave, but he didn't really get a chance to enjoy it, because Stitch was frozen like a deer in headlights. Pete pulled back and looked up at his friend anxiously. “Well, you gonna say something or what?”

Stitch didn't say anything, opting instead to grab Pete's thin shoulders and shove him against the wall in an enthusiastic snog. Pete was surprised for a second, then returned the kiss with equal gusto, groaning at the sensation of their tongues intertwining. They pressed up against each other, hands groping every inch of body they could reach, and Pete felt weird. It was the first time he'd ever made out with a man or felt one up, but god it felt good, and he felt stupid for not trying it sooner. Stupid internalised homophobia.  
They ran out of breath all too soon and Stitch pulled back to rest his forehead on Pete's shoulder, long arms wrapping around the shorter man in a loose hug. Pete let his leg drop from where it had been wrapped around Stitch's waist and rubbed his back with a breathless chuckle. “Alright?”

“Yeah. Bedroom.” He grabbed one of Pete's slim arms and yanked him to the mentioned room, backed him against the bed and kissed him roughly. Pete responded yet again with enthusiasm after spending a single second in shock; it was amusing to see the taller man so forward after spending ten years as his friend and never seeing him come on to anyone. His knees buckled and he sat on the old mattress, making Stitch climb on top of him and straddle his hips. A large northerner hand slipped under Pete's thin band t-shirt and felt the pale skin over his stomach and side before sliding upwards to firmly rub the palm over his nipple, making Pete groan into Stitch's mouth.

There were a few moments of panic (oh shit Stitch is more experienced than me, what do I do, does he want to do anal), but then Stitch grinded their clothed crotches together and suddenly Pete didn't care that he'd never done this before and the only reference to gay sex he had was a couple of short porn videos he'd watched in moments of weakness. He only wanted them naked and kissing and humping like mad rabbits. The shorter man slid his hands down over Stitch's body, squeezed his ass to elicit a groan from his friend (God his cheeks were actually pretty firm, he made a mental note to stop teasing him over owning a regular bike instead of a scooter), then started undoing his belt.  
Stitch took the hint and pulled back from the kiss to assist him, then helped Pete out his tight jeans as well, pulling his heeled boots off as he peeled away the denim. Once their shirts and jackets were off, Pete sat up and looked his friend up and down, grinning like a cat.

“What?” Stitch's body language and tone of voice was suddenly shy and self-conscious, and he was very pointedly avoiding looking too hard at Pete's naked body as though he wasn't allowed. The man was too stereotypically British for his own good.

“Just enjoying the view.”

“You've seen me naked before.”

“Gym showers and beach change rooms don't count, you didn't have a massive stiffy then. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Oh god, shut up.” He tried to sound embarrassed, but he was grinning as he yanked Pete into another kiss. Pete laughed into the kiss and wrapped his arms around Stitch's back, but the smug smile was wiped off his face when Stitch pressed their bare erections together. The next few minutes were a blur of scratchy kisses, desperate noises, the slippery friction of sweaty skin against skin, and then suddenly they were groaning as they came, Stitch a few seconds after Pete.  
Pete went limp against the pillow, panting as he relished the afterglow. Stitch rolled off him onto the mattress beside him, and the shorter of two the grinned at him. “A-Alright?”

“Alright.” Stitch chuckled quietly as he pulled the blankets up. Pete wasn't really sure what was expected then. Did gay guys cuddle? He'd always been taught that was a girl thing. Either way, he really wanted to hug Stitch right then, because he'd almost lost him. He scooted over and rested a head on his shoulder, causing Stitch look down in mild surprise, but then the man wrapped a long warm around him and rested his cheek against the top of his hair. “You think Rob will give me my job back if I begged?”

Pete snorted. “The computer's frozen six times since yesterday, I think you'll be alright.”

“Christ I hate that thing.”

The shorter of the two laughed and put a thin arm over Stitch's chest, letting his eyes slide shut. They settled into a companionable silence, and Pete was almost drifting off when Stitch's voice startled him out of his doze. “I haven't forgiven you yet.”

Pete's head snapped up, brow furrowed in concern, but Stitch didn't seem angry or hurt any more, just sombre, with a hint of fear in his voice. “I'm not like Poppy and Daisy," Stitch continued. "I'm not going to walk in and decide to initiate a three-way. You're not allowed to cheat on me. If you find someone else, I won't give you another chance.”

“I know.” The shorter man nodded in understanding, his heart soaring with joy. “I won't fuck this up, Stitch. I promise. I was really stupid to the girls, but I learned, alright?”

“If you're ever unhappy, just break up with me. I don't want you stringing me along for sex.”

“Hawthorn.” Pete sat up and looked his friend (Boyfriend? Lover? What were they now? He supposed they'd figure that out later) dead in the eye, his face serious. “If I'm ever going to be trustworthy once in my life, it's right now, got it? I am not going to cheat on you.”

He knew it for sure, too, and that must have reached Stitch, because he broke into a shy and affectionate smile. Pete smiled back and cupped his cheek to bring him in for another kiss, only to be hit playfully in the face with a pillow. “Don't call me Hawthorn.”

Pete laughed and yanked the pillow out of his face to toss it into the corner. “What's-his-face called you Hawthorn.”

“Who?”

“You know, your _'roommate'_ from two years ago? Sam?”

“Yeah, and why do you think I dumped him?”

“...Christ, I can't tell if you're joking or not.”

Stitch just laughed and pulled Pete in for a kiss.

***


End file.
